


Bracing

by babywarg (morphaileffect)



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Covid-19 Related, Drama, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Short & Sweet, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/babywarg
Summary: In which Tony Stark makes a few declarations in response to a disease outbreak, and brooks no dissent.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 7
Kudos: 112
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	Bracing

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING. This fic is set the day before a lockdown is declared in NYC. I am not from NYC. That is probably going to be immediately obvious to anyone who reads this xD;
> 
> I mean no disrespect; if I happen to get anything very wrong, I’m open to being corrected. Especially since this work is unbeta’d. Sorry about that :D; Lockdowns make me impatient, apparently...
> 
> ALSO! Presumes that Thanos was defeated in 2019.

“Make sure everyone gets paid for the duration of the quarantine,” Tony nonchalantly announced. “Including our suppliers. They can make up the difference after lockdown is lifted. And tell all our clients that due to logistics complications, they’ll have to wait until our central branch reopens to get their stuff, because _nobody_ is coming in to work.”

Tony scratched his chin and continued, “Well...except for the people running essential services at the Stark Foundation clinics and shelters. And, possibly, the medical equipment manufacturing folk, but that’s still up in the air.”

The rest of Stark Industries’ Board of Directors looked at him, most with mouths wide open. They’d prepared a spiffy, long-ass 3D presentation on how to cut costs and manage SI’s money during the time of quarantine.

And Tony didn’t even let them play it.

Mostly because he knew it would be mostly about shafting rank-and-file workers, while allowing lazy executives to continue making bank.

Well, he wasn’t even going to waste his time with that.

“Let me make that clear,” Tony emphasized. “ _Nobody stops earning_ while this is going on - except for anyone who nets over 300k annually. Which, I presume, means everyone present. Including myself.”

Pepper, his ever-reliable assistant, sat quietly, with a glorious smirk on her face. She already knew he was going to pull this, of course. She was there to help manage any temper tantrums that might arise.

(She wasn’t included in the 300k club, but her salary was way over standard grade. Tony made sure of that. Anyone who could put up with him as long as Pepper had, deserved top dollar. And, like every other SI employee earning less than the Board of Directors, she was getting every bit of her due during the coming quarantine.)

Tony, true to form, left before any temper tantrums arose. He was always younger, faster than any of the greedy mofos his father had employed.

“Any questions, direct them to Ms. Potts over there,” he declared as he sauntered out, “so that she can, in turn, direct them to the nearest brick wall. And now, I must go. Very busy with superhero stuff in these crazy times, you understand. Good day, everyone.”

A firestorm of complaints tried to stop him from walking out of the conference room.

Tony smiled and ignored them all.

***

And with the messy business of giving the finger to capitalism out of the way, he had time to spare for more pleasant business.

It wasn’t quite “superhero business,” as he had told the board. The mayor of New York was going to declare a lockdown within the next 24 hours. He knew this because of business contacts...and also, Rhodey. Who had actually gone to his house to deliver the bad news himself.

“I know you, Tones, and I know something like this is going to make you stir-crazy,” was how his best friend had phrased it. “It’s probably going to last a month, maybe more. I’m giving you advance warning in case you need to pack. For your own sake, go isolate yourself somewhere that makes you happy.”

Tony knew exactly where that was.

One would think it was his lab at the Avengers complex. Or Fort Lauderdale, even.

But no -

It was a relatively nondescript five-storey brownstone in Greenwich Village.

The front door of which happened to be swamped with placard-wielding protesters when Tony arrived.

“What the - ” Tony breathed, as he approached.

The protesters were chanting “Stop! The! Plague!” as they stood in place and bounced their placards and streamers up and down. They seemed like they meant it, too. Some of the signs said things like “NO ALIEN VIRUSES”, “THE DEVIL BRINGS DISEASE” and “MAGIC IS SATAN’S VESSEL.”

There was a journalist and his camera guy, busy interviewing protesters.

When they spotted Tony alighting from his car, they immediately shifted their focus from the protesters, to him.

“ -- Stark? Tony Stark??” The fluster was clear in their voices, but the good muckrakers of New York knew how to think on their feet. They had questions for him as soon as they stuck their microphones in his face. “Mr. Stark, What are you doing here? Do you know this is Doctor Strange’s house? Are you visiting him because of the rumored lockdown? Do you think he has something to do with it?”

“What?” he challenged.

He hadn’t meant to stop walking, glare at the reporter who had asked that last question, and make the poor guy’s words catch in his throat.

“Do with what?” Tony asked, unable to make himself sound any less menacing. “The rumors? The lockdown? The disease?”

“Uh...” The reporter wasn’t sure how to proceed. And it suddenly occurred to Tony that even the protesters had stopped chanting.

Everyone was waiting for what he had to say.

Tony took advantage of the few seconds of stunned silence. He pushed past the crowd to get to the brownstone’s front door.

Which instantly opened at his touch, so that he stumbled in, and it hastily closed behind him. After this, the noise outside faded into blessed silence.

***

Tony regained his footing and adjusted his jacket. He would never get used the Sanctum. Which was, frankly, one of its charms.

Its master had designed it to be disorientating. And Tony had come to see its master.

“Hey,” Tony called from the foyer, “did you know you have a bunch of angry villagers at your doorstep with pitchforks and torches?”

 _“Only noticed the torches,”_ an echoing voice answered, from high above. _“The pitchforks must be new.”_

He turned to the source of the voice, and saw Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts, Keeper of the New York Sanctum, and brand-new secret boyfriend to Tony Stark, floating down the stairs, his ethereal cloak billowing behind him.

What a drama queen.

Fortunately, he was _Tony’s_ drama queen. That meant repercussions were usually non-lethal and enjoyable.

He alighted exactly two meters away from his visitor. Good distancing, the visitor noted.

“I’ve got some news for you,” Tony greeted. “But before we get to that - why are people holding up signs outside your house?”

“Well,” Stephen slowly said, “I presume it’s because some of them think the sickness spreading across the globe was caused by magic. And when they think of magic, they think of me.”

“Seriously...?” Tony laughingly remarked. “They know you helped save the universe from Thanos, right? Who would even suggest something like that?”

Stephen shrugged. “Cult leaders. YouTube stars. Stock market gurus. I dunno. People talk. Ignore them.” He turned to leave. “I’m hitting the books again. You know your way around, right? Just don't touch anything, as usual.”

He was walking away, when Tony grabbed him by the wrist.

“What the - “ Stephen exclaimed.

“Let’s go.”

The pressure that Tony exerted on his wrist bordered on painful, but it was only enough to get Stephen to understand the urgency. He silently allowed himself to be led out of the Sanctum, into the fray.

***

The roar of the crowd turned louder at the sight of Stephen.

Tony raised his hand, and the roar died down a bit.

“I heard someone ask me earlier what I was doing here,” Tony began. “Well, I’m here to see this man.”

When he said “this man,” it was as if an invisible blanket was suddenly thrown over the onlookers, making them fall silent and hold their breaths.

Stephen smiled. Addressing a crowd was always Tony’s magic.

“This man,” Tony repeated, raising Stephen’s wrist slightly, as he had not yet let go of it, “Doctor Stephen Strange, is one of Earth’s mightiest heroes. Sure he’s not an Avenger _yet_ , but that matter is subject to negotiation. I may yet grant him his request for an endless supply of Ceylon tea, still thinking about it.”

Stephen shut his eyes before anyone could see his eyeballs rolling back. Since Thanos’ defeat, Tony had been trying to get him to join the Avengers formally, stubbornly ignoring Stephen’s explanation that he needed to be independent, if he was going to do his hero work well.

And he never mentioned Ceylon tea. Although he was flattered that Tony remembered his favorite.

“My point is,” Tony continued, as he put Stephen’s hand down again, “a man who has saved the Earth, a _hell_ of a lot of times, can safely _not_ be blamed for anything bad going on to the Earth. That clear?”

It was _not_ clear - at least not to the angry guy wearing a garish sweater and carrying the “GOD HATES HARRY POTTER” sign.

“It’s magic!” he cried. “Dark magic! He brought this down on us!”

“How?” Tony challenged. “ _How_ has he brought it down on you? Come on, I’m a man of science. I go by evidence. If you give me a convincing argument, I’m willing to see your point of view.”

Everyone turned to angry sweater guy. His apparel suddenly seemed a bit too warm for nice NYC-in-springtime weather.

“Y-you can’t explain magic,” the rapidly reddening man stammered. “That’s what makes it evil!”

“Okay, so.” Tony was on him like a hawk on prey, “by your logic, this disease, which _can_ be explained by logic and science, is _not_ a thing of evil?”

Stephen didn’t need to read Tony’s mind: he could see the possible “arguments” between Tony and the man unfold in his brain.

Whatever the man said, Tony had already checkmated the man in two moves.

It was almost brutal.

When the man still hadn’t answered for a good ten seconds, Tony silently declared victory. He pulled himself up, began to address the crowd again, his voice stronger than ever:

“ _Listen up_. Within 24 hours, the city of New York will declare a lockdown. You can take my word for it or not, but the fact is that you’ll soon be trapped inside your homes, in a severe but necessary effort to contain an outbreak. That means _no_ parties, _no_ playdates and _no_ orgies for the next few weeks. Maybe months.”

The tense silence gradually morphed into whisperings as he was speaking. A lockdown? People knew it was being considered, but...was it really going to happen? Were things already that bad?

“So if I were you, _any_ of you,” Tony continued, with a pointed look toward the journalist and his camera guy, “I’d hunker down. Stop looking for someone to hate. Just go home...go to your family, to where you feel safe, and tell people you love them.” His voice and face softened. “Love as much as you can. And let _other_ people love as much as they can. Look after yourselves and each other. Because in the coming struggle, as in all struggles, love is what’s going to make sure we pull through.”

As Tony was speaking, the crowd gathered on the sidewalk outside the Sanctum grew. Passers-by heard the words “lockdown” (and also, possibly, “orgies”) and joined the crowd, hoping to understand what Tony was talking about.

Stephen almost felt sorry for them. He had a sense of the kind of challenges that were going to befall them in the coming weeks. That would befall _all_ of them.

But he couldn’t lose himself in negative thoughts, while Tony was still holding on to him.

“This man doesn’t deserve your anger,” Tony said. It sounded like a conclusion. “Let me tell you why.”

He pulled Stephen close to him, wrapped an arm around his waist.

And drew him in for a deep kiss.

There was a roar in the crowd again. Mostly they were surprised gasps, but there was a scattering of clapping and cheers.

When the two men broke away, they were both breathless, flushed, and the roaring was just a whisper in their ears.

Tony stared into Stephen’s eyes for a long second, silently saying _I got this_.

Then he turned to the mob again just to say, “He’s going to be my lockdown buddy. Good day!”

The journalist damn near crowd-surfed trying to get to Tony Stark. His camera guy did his best to keep up.

But Tony was faster than any of them. Hand still around Stephen’s waist, he turned around, opened the Sanctum’s front door, and strode inside with his lover.

***

They stepped inside, and the murmuring of the crowd vanished. The silence of the Sanctum enveloped them like a warm cocoon.

Stephen raised his eyebrow at Tony.

“ ‘Lockdown buddy’?” he asked.

Tony blinked.

“Uh...yeah. That was the ‘news’ I came to deliver.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You can say no, of course! I know I should’ve asked you first, but things have been crazy...”

“Yeah. No.” Stephen cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s, uh, okay. Of course. We can always find a spare room in here for you.”

“Well, I was...really hoping I could bunk in with you,” Tony suggested.

Tony tilted his head slightly to the right. It was a power move. He knew it made him look adorable.

And it was super effective.

Stephen chuckled, shyly dropped his gaze.

“Over the next few days,” he coyly said, “you’re going to learn a lot about this thing called ‘physical distancing.’ It’s very important that you know how it works.”

“Is it?” Tony stepped closer, feigning cluelessness. “Is it _very_ important?”

“Could save lives.”

“Mm. Good thing I’m bunking in with a doctor who can tell me _all about_ saving lives.” He fingered the hem of Stephen’s tunic.

“I’m serious, though,” Stephen quietly said, “I may not always be available to personally...attend to you. I’m foreseeing this disaster is going to be bad, Tony. Really bad. I’m going to be busy, trying to find magical cures to this non-magical malady, and helping out as much as I can.”

“So am I!” Tony assured him. “What, you think I’m just here for an indefinite booty call? You’re not the only one who can see the future, you know. I know it’s going to get bad. I’m going to be remotely managing relief efforts and privately funding research on this. On occasion, I may step out in a suit I’ve fitted with antiseptic mods. I won’t just be lying in bed waiting for you.”

“Oh, no?” Stephen smirked. “Pity.”

“Yeah. Damn shame, really. But as long as we get to come home to each other, I’m good. Coming home to you...that’s the only thing I can think of that’ll make this whole thing bearable.”

Stephen’s smirk melted into a warm smile.

Tony bridged the distance between them with a step.

The kiss they shared within Sanctum doors was more languid, more familiar, more intimate. With no eyes and cameras pointed at them.

Just the way Stephen liked it.

Sometimes.


End file.
